


A Hero For America

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: About A hero, English Essay, M/M, My Version Of Les Mis, Not exact to the Brick, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 03:20:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was just a project I had to write for English about who I thought was a Hero. It's not exact to the Brick, I added my own version, but most details are to the Brick. Hope you enjoy. :)</p>
    </blockquote>





	A Hero For America

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a project I had to write for English about who I thought was a Hero. It's not exact to the Brick, I added my own version, but most details are to the Brick. Hope you enjoy. :)

“My own heroes are the dreamers, those men and women who tried to make the world a better place than when they found it, whether in small ways or great ones. Some succeeded, some failed, most had mixed results... but it is the effort that's heroic, as I see it. Win or lose, I admire those who fight the good fight.”

―[George R.R. Martin](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/346732.George_R_R_Martin)

~*~

A hero, to me, is someone who strides to change a society for the better; a good leader, one with morals and thinks ethically. A hero, to me, is expressed thoroughly through the fictional character of Enjolras, from Les Misérables by Victor Hugo. Although he originated in Paris, France, some modern day fans have adopted Les Amis de l’ABC, a group of students dedicated to making political changes in France,into a modern, American society.

~*~

“I don’t want fame, I’m not trying to become a martyr; I just want to see a change in the world.” Enjolras spoke, slamming his gun against the table.

He’d never been one to care about fame or money. Even though he came from a wealthy family, being the only heir, he overlooked the wealth and inherited the fight for liberty and freedom. The only thing that matters to Enjolras is the silent cries of the poor, and his devout mission for equality.

“But, not everyone can change the world, so many have tried and failed.” Grantaire spoke matter-of-factly, taking another swig of his bottle of Moscato. “You think you can make a difference?” He scoffed and raised an eyebrow towards him.

They always argue, even about the most minimalist of things; but every chance Enjolras gets where he can argue with Grantaire about his stride for equality, he uses every ounce of effort he can muster to try and convince the cynic that he can and will make a change in society, even if he has to die trying.

Enjolras, Chief of Les Amis de l’ABC, devotes his life to see that there is a better tomorrow for his people, wanting to see a brighter day for his beloved Patria, a metaphor for his personification of France as his mistress.

“Even if I can’t, it won’t matter, I will save all the people I can, and even after I die, someone else will take my place, continuing the revolution for equality.”

Enjolras’ sense for seeing the bad in the world allowed him to call it upon himself to make a change. He strived for equality among the people of France, willing to fight ‘till his last breath for what he believed in. He will aim to see that there is a change for the better of his people.

Grantaire just shook his head, standing up with the now empty bottle in his hands and walked away. Although the drunkard believed in nothing, he believed in his Apollo.

Enjolras watched as the drunken cynic walked out of the room, stumbling on his way out, a messy mane of dark curls disappearing as he rounded the corner.

One wouldn’t have to be a skeptic to know of their impending death, it was as plain as day, yet, Enjolras still chose to fight for what he believed in.

Enjolras would never classify himself as a hero, maybe a liberal, but never a hero. He didn’t have time to worry about his classification while there was a world of [metaphorically] crying people outside his window, and he payed no mind to himself as long as he could still hear those cries.

*

Many consider him to be a saint, a god - preferably Apollo - yet he is merely a single human being. He’s considered best to represent his community due to his respect for them. Most other politicians veer their beliefs, promoting Women’s Rights one day, but taking away their decisions, their very Freedom of Speech, the next.

With today’s society, it’s easy to fall into the grasps of trying to please everyone, trying to gain as many votes as you can, but Enjolras isn’t like that. Enjolras stands on the ashes of the failed leaders before him, standing firm with his beliefs.

Dedication to see a change in the world isn't enough though; we can't just submerge ourselves into our work and hope it goes away. Enjolras knows this, and if he were to change America, he wouldn't just stop at making plans, he'd strive to see that his plans for a better future are met, even if he has to die trying.

*

A bang against the door caught his attention.

This is it. He thought to himself, his hand instinctively moving towards his gun. A crowd of armed men came bursting through the doors, filling the entire room.

He stood before the National Guardsmen, casted away his gun, folded his arms across his chest, and pushed his breast out; accepting his fate. His fight for the republic had ended, a valiant fight ‘till the end, but the fight for freedom will be passed on.

Grantaire, having woken up from his drunken slumber, sauntered into the room, crossing his way to his fearless leader. It wasn’t so much the noise that disturbed him of his sleep - he was perfectly content sleeping under noisy conditions - but it was rather the eery silence that fell upon them that had awoken him. A silence so loud it could be heard beyond the barricades.

“Permets-tu?” Grantaire asked, looking to his leader, asking permission to die for the only thing he believed in, his Orestes.

The guards raised their guns and shot, immediately killing Grantaire. Eight bullets pierced Enjolras, pinning him against the wall, his head tilted, smiling towards Heaven and eternal freedom and equality.

His companion, a drunken Pylades, fell, laying at his feet, like an Apostle laying at his master’s feet.

~*~

A hero to me isn’t classified so much as brute strength, or superhuman powers; not a Demigod or some wealthy person, but someone who understands their responsibilities. Drop the powers, drop the super strength, strip everything from the epic heroes of literature and you’re left with a carcass of who they really are, or rather what they’re not. It’s what’s on the inside that counts; as cliché as it is, it’s true. A hero shouldn’t be someone set out for glory, riches, fame, or honor; but a hero is honored and noble, as well as humble. He knows his strengths, but doesn’t boast, he only makes them known in the right circumstances. Enjolras is your everyday human being; albeit he was compared to Apollo and Orestes, he has no powers.

A true hero: one who thinks of himself last, putting his cause before himself, and even then, disregarding his own life to save others’. Enjolras is the very essence of a true hero, one in its purest form, striving for what’s right ‘till his very last breath.


End file.
